Racine: Phaedra

LIFE A DREAM «39
Segismund.—Stay! stay!—What come and vanish'd as be-
fore
I scarce remember how—but
Voices [wtthin],—Room for Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy!
Enter Astolfo.
Astolfo.—Welcome, thrice welcome, the auspicious day,
When from the mountain where he darkUng lay,
The Polish sun into the firmament
Sprung all the brighter for his late ascent.
And in meridian glory
Segismund.— Where is he?
Why must I ask this twice ?
A Lord.— The Page, my Lord ?
I wonder at his boldness
Segismund.— But I tell you
He came with Angel written in his face
As now it is, when all was black as hell
About, and none of you who now—he came.
And Angel-like flung me a shining sword
To cut my way through darkness ; and again
Angel-like wrests it from me in behalf
Of one—whom I will spare for sparing him
But he must come and plead with that same voice
That pray'd for me—in vain.
Chamberlain.— He is gone for,
And shall attend your pleasure, sir. Meanwhile,
Will not your Highness, as in courtesy.
Return your royal cousin's greeting?
Segismund.— Whose?
Chamberlain.—Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, my Lord,
Saluted, and with gallant compliment
Welcomed you to your royal title.
Segismund [to Astolfo].— Oh
You knew of this then ?
Astolfo.— Knew of what, my Lord ?
Segismund.—That I was Prince of Poland all the while,
And you my subject ?
Astolfo.— Pardon me, my Lord
But some few hours ago myself I leam'd